


Reaped

by EllanaSan



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: Book/Movie 2: Catching Fire, F/M, Finnick's second reaping, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-12
Updated: 2014-05-12
Packaged: 2018-01-24 12:06:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1604558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EllanaSan/pseuds/EllanaSan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are five women on the female tributes side of the stage and only one man on each side of him. Four must be one of the District with the largest number of victors still alive and yet, Finnick observes, he and Annie are the only ones whose hair had not been turned grey or white by time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Reaped

**Author's Note:**

> This is just a short headcanon of mine of how Finnick's second reaping went during CF. Thanks to Akachan for her beta.

There are five women on the female tributes side of the stage and only one man on each side of him. Four must be one of the District with the largest number of victors still alive and yet, Finnick observes, he and Annie are the only ones whose hair had not been turned grey or white by time.

There is Wilst on his right, a sixty-three years old man who goes fishing every day without exception even though he doesn’t need to. On his left stands Fresco, Finnick doesn’t know how old he is but he won shortly after Mags which must make him in his seventies at the very least. The women are younger. Well, Silka, Jessil and Ilera are. Fifty, forty-seven and forty-five isn’t so old. It’s too old to hope winning the Hunger Games and everyone knows it, of course. He and Annie are around the same age, in their twenties, young and whole. Well, _whole_ is another matter entirely.

He could see her if he leaned a little to the right and twisted his neck but he doesn’t want to. He knows she’s nestled between Mags and Silka, probably clutching their hands in pure terror. He doesn’t want to see the terror on her face, he wants to remember her splashing in the water, head thrown back in laughter, eyes twinkling with mirth as she tries and fails to sink him under the water.

Faces are hard around him. There is a tension in the air that has nothing to do with the storm brewing at sea and the frequent bolts of lightning that flash in the grey sky from time to time. Four’s inhabitants stand tall and proud, as one, kept silent by the guns the Peacekeepers are training on them. The victors are haunted and stern, each of them lost in their own nightmare. Della is already on stage, her delicate blue feathers wig swaying dangerously with each blow of wind, she looks sad and dejected.

Then, someone gives the signal and everything changes at once.

Della is lively and excited when she gives her little speech about treason, reminders, and the Hunger Games. The cocky smile finds Finnick’s lips easily and he waves when the camera pans on him, always the Capitol darling. He isn’t the only one. Silka and Ilera both smile and wink and try to make everyone remember that they had been loved once. Jessil and Mags remain still as do Wilst and Fresco, those four are simply disapproving. He catches a glimpse of Annie on one screen, her eyes are wide, she’s panting quietly probably trying to remain calm.

Della goes to the female victors plastic ball first and rummages through the five pieces of paper. It goes on a second longer than usual, perhaps because she knows each and every one of the victors standing in front of her. Finnick kind of want to sneer at her, to ask her if it’s better or worse to know the people you were sending in the arena. He probably could, later, on the train – he doesn’t expect any miracle on that front, he _will_ be on the train one way or another that’s just how the Capitol rolls, they will need a winner and who better than the Capitol darling? He has always played their game, he’s obedient, he doesn’t provoke scandals like Haymitch does. The only question is, who will go to their death with him? – but he knows he won’t. There are worst escorts than Della. Della isn’t mean on purpose, she doesn’t look down at tributes, she isn’t very smart either. Snow doesn’t choose escorts for their brains.

When Della unfolds the paper, her smile freezes. She doesn’t look to the female victors but to him and he _knows_. He closes his eyes just as she calls her name. The screaming start. The same kind of screams that wake them up most nights, sheer unchecked terror. He takes a step forward instinctively but the Peacekeepers around the stage turn to him at once and he freezes. It’s over anyway, Mags pushes Annie back in Silka’s arms and steps forth, leaning heavily on her cane. When Della announces Mags as this year’s tribute, her voice doesn’t crack. Her eyes say it all.

Finnick wonders what were the odds – well, he _knows_ the odds, one in five – but what _are_ the odds, really? He wonders if that was some sort of warning, if Annie’s name is the only one on all those pieces of paper like he’s sure there are three Finnick Odair in the male pool.

He walks to the stage before Della even finishes the first syllable of his name, waving and smiling to the point it hurts. Then he’s next to Mags and the grin slips away, he hugs her tight and thanks her. That hurts too because he loves her but he loves Annie more and that has always been his weakness. Della is taken aback and doesn’t really know how to deal with such a display of emotion. The last thing Finnick sees on the big screen before they cut to black are the tears shining in Mags’ eyes as she pats his back and his own face, devoid of his usual cheerfulness, stern and unforgiving. The Capitol won’t like it.

He tries to catch Annie’s eyes in the crowd but she’s crying, her face pressed against Silka’s shoulder, and it’s probably better this way. He and Mags are dragged inside the Justice Building as soon as the feed stops, he and Della both protest at the way they treat the old woman but Peacekeepers don’t stop to listen to them. _No goodbyes_ , one of them says when Della asks. Once again Finnick isn’t surprised at all. It’s alright and he tells Della as much, they have already said their goodbyes.

He tries to forget Annie’s screams and her crying face, instead he focuses on the sound of her laugh, the shape of her hands when they cup his cheeks, the twinkle in her eyes when it’s a good day. There have been more and more good days lately. A shame, he supposes, because even if he makes it out, it would take time before days are good again.

He holds Mags’ hand as they board the train and he doesn’t smile despite the cameras filming their every move. He’s not sure he cares to play their game anymore. He doesn’t like being threatened – of course, he has been threatened into hundreds of beds since he’s won but there are hypothetical threats and _actual_ threats. They have touched his family and for that, he will make them pay.


End file.
